This afternoon I sent Adam a text asking him if he wanted to get our flu shots tonight before going grocery shopping (Woo! Fun Friday night plans!).
He texted back, “Probably not. I’ll explain soon.”
A short while later, he called and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner tonight. I said that it was a tempting idea, but I thought grocery shopping would make more sense. Our fridge is bare. Eating out only takes care of one meal, and we need several. He said, “I don’t know if you know this or not, but today is our four year anniversary. Are you sure you don’t want to go out tonight?”
As much fun and romantic as it is to get a flu vaccine followed by wandering the grocery store aisles, I caved. That’s when he told me that he’d already made reservations.
He knew that if I knew the reservations were made, I’d feel an obligation to go, whether I felt up to it or not. “Oh no! We can’t cancel this late! What if the restaurant has been turning people away all week long because our table was supposedly going to be filled on a Friday night? They‘ll lose business because of us! In this economy, you just can‘t do that to people!”
So, I didn‘t get to know until after I said I was sure I wanted to go. This guy gets his restaurant-dining-with-Amy merit badge. After four long years of hard work, he deserves it.
We went to a Moroccan restaurant. It’s one of those places that has a set menu of seven courses. They have low, squishy couches, and the waiter sits down with you to discuss your dinner options. He doesn’t tell you what they’re serving. He interviews you about what you don’t or can’t eat. Then he washes your hands with rose water.
They lock the door, and to get in, you have to use a large ornate knocker. Adam said that he thought it was meant to be elitist, but I said I thought it was meant to seem like we’re visiting someone’s house. The sofa‘s and the set menu seem to fit in with that. The belly dancer doesn’t really fit in with that explanation, though.
I’m not a big Moroccan food expert, but it seems like it might not be that different than East Asian food, conceptually. It’s already mostly vegetables and grains, so making it vegetarian or vegan is not a huge deal, as long as you’re not actually in it‘s country of origin.
Culturally speaking, it’d be totally insane to turn down meat. Not because they have so much, but because they have so little. It’s almost impossible to find something that is truly vegetarian in Japan because their cuisine was developed from the need to make a small amount of meat go as far as possible (voila, that’s how you get things like fish-eye soup). A tiny amount of meat is added to large amounts of vegetables and grains. Everyone gets a taste, and whatever nutrition and density of calories it offers. Asking for something without meat isn’t offensive to them (like, we’re just that spoiled and picky), but more confusing, like we’re turning down gold bricks or sex or something.
Anyway, I really don’t know if that’s the case in Morocco, but they were able to easily accommodate a vegan diet at the restaurant tonight. It was delicious and fun. I loved the dark, comfy atmosphere, the smell of rose water and cinnamon.
I noticed that it was a beautiful, clear night as we waddled back to the car. We were both tired and we weren’t dressed for the slight chill in the air, so we came straight home.
Speaking of being tired, I’m going to rest. It seems like it will be the first time in weeks.
|Friday, Oct. 14, 2011 at 11:33 PM|